


And Now He is My Last

by explodingnebulae



Category: BioShock Infinite, Burial at Sea - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BioShock Infinite: Burial at Sea, F/M, Rescue, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:39:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26618326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/explodingnebulae/pseuds/explodingnebulae
Summary: “Well, love, if you ins--”“Atlas! We have company,” a frantic voice scratched through the radio. A gunshot sounded and then the heavy click of shoes approaching the radio. “No, pl--”The sickening crack of vertebrae.
Relationships: Booker DeWitt & Elizabeth, Booker DeWitt/Elizabeth
Kudos: 29





	And Now He is My Last

**Author's Note:**

> Burial at Sea just sits wrong with me and I'm a ball of emotion. Here's a oneshot I might expand on.

She felt...free. A normal woman with a normal pinkie finger being granted a normal death. Elizabeth had resigned to her fate, knowing that all she had done was for him, to grant revenge for the man whose life she took. Every subsequent life taken was for him, in his name, for him.

Or was it for her? 

Perhaps both. She glared up at Fontaine, knowing that her short life was fizzling out and coming to an end. The way he spun the wrench in his hand, his eyes fixed on her like a wolf devouring a fawn. 

“Well, love, if you ins--”

“Atlas! We have company,” a frantic voice scratched through the radio. A gunshot sounded and then the heavy click of shoes approaching the radio. “No, pl--”

The sickening crack of vertebrae. 

“Don’t just stand there,” Fontaine barked to his men, “Go see what the fuck is goin’ on!” 

The two men at his side nodded curtly and rushed off with guns raised. Fontaine seized Sally’s wrist so hard, she thought the poor girl’s bones might snap in his grip. 

If there was hope for her to get out of here...anything to get Sally to the surface...

“Looks like we got a visitor, darlin’. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t like leaving a job ‘til it’s done.” He set the wrench down and pulled the pistol from his holster, setting it against the girl’s head as she struggled. “Now that we have the code, we have no use for you or the little sister.”

Two clear gunshots fell in succession behind her, followed by the sound of bodies dropping and the door opening. Whoever had made it this far had no idea the cruelty of Frank Fontaine, this self-proclaimed savior of Rapture. She had had enough prophets for two lifetimes, let alone one.

“Drop it, pal.” 

A voice. Clear. Familiar. So damnably familiar it set her soul on fire and she twisted her aching neck as far as she could to see...if maybe...just maybe...

“And just who the hell do you think you are, boyo?” Fontaine’s resolve in the face of what Elizabeth knew to be certain death showed a specific flaw that all “invincible” men held, misplaced moxie. 

Part of her thought she was hallucinating or already dead, but the man who stood behind her with his pistol raised and green eyes burning with rage...

_It was him._

She didn’t need a tear to tell her that he was _her_ Booker. 

“ _Booker..._ ”

A bullet zipped by her head and she turned in time enough to see Fontaine’s limp body fall to the floor, a hole in his head. Sally scrambled to her feet and turned tail, fleeing from the scene before Elizabeth had time to call her name. 

He rushed to her, arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her, fingers nestling in her hair as she breathed in a scent she had thought was lost to her. Gunpowder and tobacco with but a hint of musk.

“You’re safe, Elizabeth.” Booker’s words rumbled in his chest when he spoke and she let a wash of calm rush over her for the first time since the Big Daddy killed her. “I’m here.” 

“But you...” Tears formed in her eyes as she nuzzled into his chest. She returned his embrace, fingers digging into his back as she started to sob. “But I killed you. Booker, how are you here?”

“Lived, lives, will live,” he repeated one of the Lutece’s mantras. “Those twins drive a hard bargain, but I’m used to the odds being stacked against me. All that matters is that you’re safe.”

Without her sight, without the ripples in time and space, Elizabeth felt powerless. What once felt so full of possibility was now abuzz with questions to which she had no answers. A blind woman stumbling in the darkness with but a man to hold onto. 

There was a familiar groan in the distance that forced her to pull away from Booker. The time for her questions would be delayed a bit longer. Her blue eyes searched his green and then grabbed at his hand to see if...Just one answer would be enough... She just needed...

There was a fresh scar splitting the initials on his hand.

It _was_ her Booker. In all of the universes she had jumped through. All of the worlds she traveled, her reality didn’t hum with misinformation, with change, as it had around the Comstocks. 

“Come on, Elizabeth. We have to get outta here. I don’t know what the hell that thing is, but I ain’t stickin’ around long enough to find out.”

“Booker...” His name was a whisper on her lips and she slipped her hand into his before they took off. 

The journey to the bathyspheres was a hectic one but she felt an odd comfort in having what should be a ghost at her side. 

“Where’d you learn to shoot?” Booker asked once they were finally able to catch their breath. The seal of the bathysphere closed around them and they began their ascent.

“Spend years of watching war heroes shoot, you learn a thing or two,” she explained wryly, staring down at the heavy pistol in her hand. It felt heavier now that she didn’t have to use it. 

“You really did it, didn’t you? Killed Comstock...”

“A million million times.” Elizabeth collapsed onto the seat of the bathysphere and dropped the gun beside her. “But I couldn’t save one little girl. Booker, what have I done?”

She leaned against his weight when he took residence beside her. 

“You can’t save everyone, Elizabeth. Getting rid of that son of bitch Comstock saved more lives than you could know.” Booker adjusted himself to make her more comfortable and she brought a hand to rest on his thigh.

“All of those years I spent missing you, of wanting you to come back, of hating myself for what I did...where were you? When I died...I was in Paris.”

“I don’t know,” he started slowly then she felt him go rigid beneath her. “What do you mean, when you died?”

“I died, Booker. Rosalind and Robert Lutece gave me one last chance at life. Look,” she raised her little finger to him. “A normal pinkie. I’m entirely mortal now. No tears, no omnipotence, nothing. Just a normal girl trapped in 1960.” 

Booker grabbed her hand in his, bent her fingers, and placed a kiss at her knuckles. The years she had spent wanting to know him more, to feel him around her, to be able to tell him all of the things she had left unsaid at the river...

One last chance at redemption.

“I missed you,” he uttered against her fingers. “I don’t know where I was...but every moment I spent there, I wanted to get back to you.”

_‘I think Booker would miss you...’_

The echo of her own mind’s words brought the sting of liquid back to her eyes. She had spent years crying internally, wanting him to come back, twisting in on herself with guilt. 

But he was there.

“And you did.” 

She sat up and withdrew her hand from his, her eyes fixed on him as she felt the first tear fall to her cheek. 

“Hey, none of that,” he whispered and pulled her closer. Her legs set on either side of him as she took residence in his lap and her head found its place in the nape of his neck. “I’m here, okay? I’m not goin’ anywhere this time, you hear me?” 

Elizabeth swallowed and shifted back to take in the sight of him as though he’d disappear if she looked away. She brought a tentative hand to caress his stubbly cheek and traced his upper lip with her thumb. 

“You aren’t, are you?” She leaned in and rested her forehead against his, tasting the air that slipped from between his lips. Elizabeth’s mouth crept open and her lips wavered.

“Not a snowball’s chance in hell...” 

An unfamiliar fear nestled in her stomach as she inched closer to his lips with her own. He was her father... Would he really allow such a thing? 

“Can I kiss you, Booker?” The question came in a breath as she watched his eyes close, her nose tracing against his. 

He said nothing, but held her to him as he closed the gap between them. His chapped lips were warm against hers and she gladly accepted the muted passion in his movement. Elizabeth held to his cheek as she parted her lips to him and indulged in the way his tongue dipped slowly, experimentally, into her mouth.

Her free hand curled into the fabric on his shoulder as they kissed. Their mouths moved in a synchronicity that even the Lutece twins could not match, and it had Elizabeth’s mind erasing desired fantasies with concrete memory. She broke from him with a soft moan and felt like she was breathing for the first time.

Booker was there. He was holding her. She was kissing him. They were returning to the surface. They were alive. They were in another time.

But above all, they were reunited. 

  
  



End file.
